Chapter 9
9
H ope and Sam decided the best strategy to combat matchmaking attempts was to face them straight on, beginning with Harry Blacksworth’s offer of dinner at his restaurant. We’ve got to let him know we aren’t going to play this game, Sam had said. We’ll go to dinner and I’ll set him straight.
Sam seemed quite confident it would work, and she hoped he was right. But as they sat in the booth of Harry’s Folly, Dean Martin’s voice crooning “Everybody Loves Somebody” throughout the restaurant, Hope began to have doubts. “How are you going to get him to stop? Harry Blacksworth does not seem like the sort of man who accepts no for an answer the first, second, or fifth time.”
Sam’s lips twitched, his eyes sparkled. The man was too handsome with his dark hair and whiskey-colored eyes… And when he smiled, well, he made a person forget what they were about to say. That proved ridiculous and unwelcome, especially for someone like Hope who prided herself on her ability to be concise, deliberate, and in charge. The more time she spent with the man, the more she realized he was what many might call “captivating”. Tonight, he wore a white dress shirt with tiny burgundy pinstripes and dark slacks; classic, elegant, very appealing.
“I’ve got an angle on handling Harry Blacksworth. Just sit back and enjoy.”
“I will, almost as much as I’ll enjoy seeing you try to keep red sauce off your white shirt.”
He laughed, a real laugh that made his expression soften, his eyes turn two shades brighter. “I spend most of my time in scrubs and T-shirts and this is one of the only dress shirts I could find.” A shrug, another laugh. “The rest are boxed up and maybe I’ll get to them. Or maybe I’ll just donate them.”
Maybe he’d forced himself into them too many times and wanted to forget that period in his life. “Whether you’re wearing faded T-shirts, scrubs, or a suit, you’ll get noticed—and not because of what you’re wearing.”
“Is that an actual compliment from Hope Newland?” The raised brow and broad grin made her shake her head.
“I’m stating the obvious and I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve heard it.”
“But not from you. People say things all the time, sometimes because they’re true, sometimes to get a reaction, and sometimes because they want something…but not you. You’re a straight shooter.” He leaned back against the booth as though dissecting every word she spoke. “I find that very interesting.”
She fumbled for a response, wished she’d kept her mouth closed about clothing and getting noticed. Before she could think of a half-intelligent response, Harry Blacksworth descended upon them in all of his boisterous glory. “Well, hello and welcome. How are you both doing tonight?”
The man was smooth. Even if Hope hadn’t heard the stories about him, she’d have guessed he knew how to handle people, how to say just the right thing so they couldn’t refuse what he offered, and how to get them to relax. Sam didn’t appear as affected or willing to accept the man’s platitudes. “Harry, before you get started, I want to thank you for the dinner invitation.”
“Of course, it’s my pleasure.” Harry winked at Hope.
“But I’m paying for it.”
“What?” The man looked surprised but recovered fast. “No, I invited you and Hope. I want to do this.” He smiled at Hope, nodded. “She hasn’t tried the penne with spinach and garbanzos or the shrimp scampi. And what about the tiramisu or cannoli?”
Sam held his gaze, his voice firm. “Hope can have as many entrees as she wants, including all of the desserts, but I’m paying. And one more thing.” He eyed the new Godfather of Magdalena. “You’re going to leave us alone. I mean it, Harry. No more matchmaking or trying to get us together in some sneaky manner. Just let us be.”
“I shouldn’t get involved, not even if the attraction is sitting between you on the table?” Those blue eyes turned brighter, his expression serious. “Not even then?”
“Not even then, because if you do, I’ll have to stop coming by your house to check on Cooper. No more special visits to see the big guy. You’ll have to come to the clinic and I won’t offer any more advice on how to get him to go to the bathroom on command or calm him when it storms…unless it’s at the clinic.”
“Who’s Cooper?” Hope hadn’t heard any mention of a Cooper Blacksworth when she read about Harry’s family.
“Cooper?” Harry’s voice cracked; his tanned face turned pale. “He’s my best friend, and sure he’s got issues, but Sam understands him, and he can get him to open up in ways nobody else can. You can’t do this, Sam.” Harry’s shoulders slumped and the saddest look spread over his face. “Cooper and I need you.”
Sam turned to Hope. “Cooper’s the rescue lab mix Harry picked up on a backroad one winter day. The dog’s got some issues, but he’s a good boy and we’re working through them.”
“We are, and I don’t want to go backward.” Those blue eyes settled on Hope. “I like to say we’re both rescues, and we understand each other.”
A nod as Sam held Harry’s gaze, confronted him in a way Hope bet most people never did. “I understand that, Harry, and I’m willing to continue helping you and Cooper, but you’re going to have to help me, too. Leave us alone. No more offering us dinner or making clever remarks…no putting us in an uncomfortable position. If I need your help, I’ll come to you and so will Hope.” Harry cleared his throat, opened his mouth to speak, closed it. “Are we good?”
“So, what you’re saying is if I back off on the matchmaking, even if I see something obvious, then you’ll keep checking on Cooper and me at the house?”
“Correct.”
Harry blew out a loud sigh. “And he only has to go to the clinic for his shots and whatnot?”
“That’s right. I’ll keep helping Cooper get over his fear of the microwave beep, hydrangea blooms, and whatever else comes at us. Just call me.” Sam rubbed his jaw, eyed Harry, and added one more item to his list of requirements. “And I’d like you to invite my mother here for lunch, make it look like you have a new dish you’d like her to try.”
“Sure, I can do that.” Harry’s features relaxed, his lips pulled into a slow smile. “Joyce always gives an honest opinion, whether I want to hear it or not.”
“Agreed, and once she’s sampling her meal, I want you to convince my mother that nothing’s going to happen between me and Hope.” He darted a glance at her, shrugged. “Say there’s no attraction, no interest…I don’t care, say whatever you have to so she’ll stop pushing.”
Later, Hope would remember this moment and why he’d been named the Godfather of Magdalena. The man straightened his shoulders and tossed out his own interpretation of what Sam had asked him to do. “So, you want me to lie about what I see—to your mother ?”
Sam frowned, spat out, “I want you to set my mother straight.”
“I see. Sure, I’ll do that. No worries, I’ll set your mother straight on what is and isn’t going on between you and Hope.”
“Okay then, we’ve got a deal.” Sam stood, shook Harry’s hand. “Thank you, Harry. I appreciate it.”
“Should I cancel the bottle of champagne or…”
“I think we’ll have wine tonight.” He sank back into his seat, glanced at Hope. “What would you like?”
“Chardonay?”
“Two Chardonnays, Harry.”
“You bet.”
And with that, the man who’d been insistent on matching Hope and Sam walked away, no doubt taking all of his matchmaking attempts with him. “How did you do that?”
“I called his bluff. Harry loves that dog like he’s one of the kids. I get it.” His voice smothered with emotion. “I see it every day at the clinic. People might neglect their own health, but if their pet’s not feeling well? They’re heading to the clinic for answers.”
“So I’ve heard.”
His gaze narrowed the tiniest bit. “You’ve never had a pet? No dog? No cat?”
She shook her head, thought of the many times she’d asked her mother. Could we get a dog? Please? Mrs. Bardoni has free puppies and she said we could have one. I’ll do anything. I’d like a girl but a boy would be okay, too. What do you think of Sophie for a girl’s name and Jester for a boy? The answer was always the same. You need to concentrate on yourself. Hope cleared her throat, thought of how much she’d wanted a dog. It didn’t matter what kind or how old. Something. Anything. “I’ve never had a dog.”
“How about a cat?”
Mom, can I have a cat? They don’t require as much work, please. I’ll clean the litter box and feed him. Can I have a cat? “No, no cat.”
He studied her as though he could read between the lines and almost hear what Hope’s mother had said. “Animals are great teachers. They make it easier for us to show our emotions. I think every child should have that experience.” A smile spread across his face, reached his eyes. “And every adult.”
“And yet, you’re a vet who doesn’t own a dog or cat.”
His eyes turned dark, his expression guarded. “Right. I plan to start rescuing once I get my place fixed up. There are a lot of animals who need forever homes.” He laughed, blew out a quiet sigh. “I may end up with a house full…” His voice turned serious when he added, “Sometimes people find themselves in situations where they can no longer care for a dog. I plan to get involved with some of the shelters and rescue groups. People often get a dog because they like the way he looks or they think the breed is fashionable. Maybe the kids have been pestering them for one, and they decide a Christmas puppy is a great gift. That last one is often a disaster. They don’t stop to consider the breed or who’s going to walk him and clean up his messes. They don’t think about any of that because they can’t get past how ‘darn cute he is’. Big mistake. If you’re not going to walk the dog twice a day or provide some form of adequate exercise, then maybe you should pick one who doesn’t need that much. They all require mental stimulation, but prospective owners don’t think about that. They’re only thinking about the cuteness, and how much they love cuddling with the animal, not cleaning up diarrhea or throw up at three in the morning or walking in freezing temps…or teaching him what ‘no’ means.” He paused, his expression grim. “If cute and cuddly are the big reasons for getting a pet, then those people should consider a stuffed animal.”
“Have you ever told anyone that?” The set of his jaw told her he meant what he said, and the fierceness in his expression said he’d followed through. “I have. I’m a little nicer about it, but it’s my job to protect the animals. They’re work and commitment, whether it’s a dog or a cat, and if you only want to commit when it’s convenient, then you shouldn’t get a pet. The pet owners I had in Chicago wanted to ‘breathe’ for their animals, and that was just as bad. I didn’t feel like I could be honest with them about their unhealthy attachment to their dogs and cats, and that was a big issue for me.” He blew out a breath, shook his head. “It caused a lot of problems between me and my ex, who thought dyeing a dog’s fur and painting toenails was a form of self-expression.” Another shake of his head, a muttered, “I’ve heard it all, lived through it all…wished I hadn’t.”
“It sounds like you’re a guardian angel for pets.” She’d never considered half of what he’d mentioned, not as a child or an adult. Of course, she hadn’t thought about having a pet since she was fourteen and grew tired of begging for one.
A shrug, a quiet, “It shouldn’t be that difficult, but there are people who only want the animal until it’s not convenient or they grow tired of the care…or the puppy tears up carpeting and toys and pees in the house and he’s still doing that two years later. It’s all about putting the time in, and expectations.”
“Ah, like a relationship.”
His lips twitched. “Right, but the odds of success are higher with a dog.” Those lips pulled into a slow smile. “Sad but true.”
The man might be skeptical and closed off when he referred to relationships—but he certainly loved animals. “How would a person know what’s the right choice? Would you recommend a puppy, a rescue, a certain breed?”
His eyes lit up. “You’ve got to match the dog and the person, that’s the most important part. And decide what you’re willing to do to give the dog his best life. People think if they plunk hundreds of dollars or more on a dog, then the animal should be the perfect choice for them. Not so. Same with a rescue. Just because you’ve saved them from a bad situation does not mean they understand that and will spend their life thanking you. Again, it’s about setting expectations and consistency.”
“Sounds an awful lot like raising a child.”
He laughed. “Pretty much.”
“If you could get any breed, which would you pick?”
“All of them?” His expression turned thoughtful. “If I had my choice, I’d go with a lab or a lab mix. But I like a good challenge, and a German Shepherd would provide that. I’ve owned Shepherds and I’d consider one of those, but they require a lot of training because they will constantly challenge you. Golden retrievers are easy temperaments and beautiful animals. A German-shorthaired pointer is something else. They have a nose, and they’ll keep your yard clean of rodents, but they’re high energy, and walking three miles a day is a warm-up.” He rubbed his jaw and confessed, “I guess I really would take any or all of them.”
He looked away, his voice drifting. “I have so many plans for the practice and one of these days I hope I can convince my father to listen to them.”
“Don’t give up.” With the push of matchmaking behind them, she could relax, maybe even be a sounding board for his future plans. She and Sam could be friends, and if she noticed the square jaw, full lips, and broad shoulders? That would be categorized as observation, nothing more. As for the gray flecks in his eyes and the way his voice shifted when he spoke about animals? Again, the noticing was merely observation, nothing more… not attraction. “I’d love to hear about your plans.” How long had it been since she’d asked an almost stranger such a personal question? Quite a while, but Sam Harrington didn’t feel like a stranger, even though she’d only met him a short time ago.
That observation should have been a warning, but she’d been lulled by the belief they could be just friends and the calming tone of his voice, and didn’t notice the danger of getting too close.
And she should have.